


The Last One(s) Left On The Dancefloor

by sweetpiquillo



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Sparring, Sparring as a metaphor, Teenage Shenanigans, implied bisexual mako, kind of, kwoon shenangians, teenage chuck, teenage mako
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 01:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17653076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetpiquillo/pseuds/sweetpiquillo
Summary: No actual dancefloors, sorry."Good news, you bum." She roughly tossed him a pole, and he twisted around and narrowly caught it. "We're sparring."Chuck's smile stretched into a wide, self-confident grin. "What, you think you're gonna win?""No." Mako matched his expression. "I know I'm gonna win."(Completed)





	The Last One(s) Left On The Dancefloor

**Author's Note:**

> Mako and Chuck are angry sad teenagers who don't know how to properly deal with their emotions. It's definitely a good idea to give them weapons and make them duke it out in an enclosed basement area that heats up with incredible speed, right?
> 
> Right. Something like that.

Mako didn't "do" white boys.

Really, she didn't - couldn't, wouldn't - do boys, or girls, or dating in general. Not with her father around, not with a war on. It wouldn't be right. Her conscience wouldn't be able to rest.

And did she really want to risk it with the Academy boys? Really? With all of their self-righteous, pent-up, military-grade emotional repression? Hair that had never been washed properly and an egregious lack of respect for the lives that were in their hands?

She could do better. Truly.

With the demands of her calculus classes, and the engineering project she was losing her sanity over, and the yoga class that Stacker had "strongly suggested" she sign up for, Friday nights had become her escape.

Every week, 5:00, on the dot, she was there in the Kwoon. Elite Combat. It was a small class, with only about ten students attending regularly. From what she'd seen during underground matches and during free ring Sunday afternoons, many other students were qualified - but would rather spend their weekends smuggling in cheap vodka or sneaking themselves outside of the base - which, sure, fine.

More time on the mat for her.

Aisha had been her sparring partner ever since Mako had first entered the Academy. Bonding almost immediately after they caught each other sneaking into the Jaeger hanger at the same time, it was evident that they were drift-compatible from the very beginning. Sure, they'd never done a formal test or anything, and it wasn't like they could just jump into a Jaeger and see, not with Mako's situation, but Mako was convinced of it. They held the record for the longest sparring session without a confirmed win, they always seemed to know what the other was thinking, and for four years, they'd been practically attached at the hip.

They were schemers. Sneaking into the docking bay, even if it was just to look at all the mechanics and engineers at work, became a regular occurence. They'd stay for as long as possible after sparring sessions and sneak back after dinner and after curfew to go again, and again, and again. They'd have marathon study sessions in their shared suite before exams and marathon movie sessions afterwards. On the quietest nights Aisha would let some words slip about her moms and her little brother in Hawaii, counting on her to protect her island and her people, and how much she missed feeling the sunshine on her skin. Suddenly, Mako was okay with telling her about her parents, and the attack, and how when she dreamed sometimes she was back in her father's shop, transfixed by flying sparks of metal. In the morning, they'd wake up (maybe Aisha would steal one of Mako's shirts from where their clothes were all mixed up together in the closet) and do it all again.

Mako had always held onto this hope - more like a pipe dream, really - that Aisha would be the one. The one to convince Stacker that she could pilot a Jaeger, the one that she'd go into the field with, the one that she'd be able to be roommates with and sparring partners with forever.

Maybe she had been in love with Aisha.

Maybe Aisha had been a little bit in love with her.

Either way, it didn't matter.

Aisha had been deployed a week earlier.

She broke the news after dinner, at their usual round table, while Mako was taking the first sweet bites of the orange sherbet that had just been shipped in. The table immediately erupted in cheers and slaps on the back and fist bumps and someone was opening a bottle of champagne somehow and in seconds Aisha was crowded around by every student at the Academy, the letter being grabbed at, passed around, and waved recklessly in the air.

Mako helped her pack that night, as Aisha put on old cassette tapes and turned up the volume on her ancient boombox. They argued over which pairs of shoes belonged to who. Mako tried not to cry.

They both ended up crying anyway, as they hugged goodbye. Aisha's last words were swallowed by the roar of the helicopter whisking her away halfway around the globe.

Apparently, a month earlier, Aisha has tested for drift compatibility with several rangers who were already deployed, and she was now be piloting with some French guy. He was tall, and able to make a mustache look classy, and Mako was definitely not jealous. At all.

She cried again. She skipped a quiz in mechanical engineering and immediately regretted it. She tried to be mad at Stacker. It didn't last - teenage rebellion had never been her thing. He respected her enough to tell her the truth and to not sugar-coat his concerns. She respected him enough to listen. They had tea at their usual time that Thursday afternoon.

Her new roommate was this tiny first-year girl from Ethiopia who had glasses and a slight shake in her hands and who was in a higher math class. They got along annoyingly well.

Aisha called, and Mako cried again.

So here she was, in the Kwoon, Friday night, partnerless, stretching out her calves and wondering how to ask to be in a threesome sparring situation with Julieta and Enlai without sounding _too_ weird.

"Hey, Mako." A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "So. We meet again."

Mako leaped up, fists instinctively flying into a defensive stance. The smug face of none other than Chuck Hansen was staring her down. Belatedly, her brain registered his aggressively Australian accent.

So - not a threat. She put her fists down.

He was casually leaning against the wall, arms folded, monopolizing their height difference with the way he had his head decidedly tilted down.

Mako took a step back, so she could look him in the eye

She didn't do white boys, and she didn't do Academy boys, and she definitely didn't do _Chuck Hansen._ He had the whole angry, loud, arrogant, Australian, too confident for his own good, prodigal son thing going on and…

It didn't mesh well.

 _They_ never had.

"Aren't you supposed to be...not here?" She folded her arms, trying to broaden her shoulders.

Chuck shrugged, annoyingly nonchalant. "Got bumped up a class. Heard there was an opening?" 

"Something like that."

"Need a partner?" His raised eyebrows and shit-eating grin betrayed any authenticity he was attempting to convey.

Mako looked him up and down. "Not you." She turned around and went back to stretching, dismissing him.

Chuck seemed to take the hint, but seconds later Zahra, the sparring instructor, was running over to Mako.

"Mako, I have a _huge_ favor I need to ask of-"

"Yeah, yeah, be Chuck's sparring partner." Mako didn't even look up. "I know."

Zahra crouched down, voice hushing. "Technically, I couldn't deny him a spot, not with his sim scores..."

Vehement opposition was on the tip of Mako's tongue, but as Zahra went on about Chuck, wheels began to turn in her mind. A scheme. Hansen thought he could handle this class? He thought he could handle _her_? She'd show him.

Mako cut Zahra off mid-rant. "No worries, Zah. I'll show him around the ring.

"Um. Okay." Zahra seemed caught off-guard. "Just...don't wring him out too much."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Mako lied with a dazzling grin. "By the way, I finally got to put in a good word for you with the Marshal yesterday." She rubbed her fingers together. _Bonus check,_ she mouthed.

"You're an angel." Zahra got up, tapping Mako on the shoulder. "I do _not_ get paid enough to do this."

Mako finished stretching, wrapped her hands, and snatched up two poles. She sauntered over to where Chuck was flirting with Julieta, feeling only slightly remorseful about the pain was about to inflict upon him.

"Good news, you bum." She roughly tossed him a pole, and he twisted around and narrowly caught it. "We're sparring."

Chuck's smile stretched into a wide, self-confident grin. "What, you think you're gonna win?"

"No." Mako matched his expression. "I _know_ I'm gonna win."

Unfortunately, forty minutes in, Mako was dying.

She didn't know what she had expected.

Easy dominance? Sweet, satisfying victory? The slightest spark of enjoyment for her tired, tired, soul?

But no. Of course not.

If there was a way to be the opposite of drift-compatible, this was it.

She'd sparred with countless times, but it had never even coming close to being this painful.

Her only respite was getting brief glimpses of Chuck's face in between flying feet and fists, seeing that he was in the same agony that she was in.

It was just...chaotic. None of the clean strikes and fluid movement and controlled breathing that were supposed to be the clear foundation of a good sparring session. None of the focus that she'd felt with Aisha, none of the steady peace she always felt when she stepped into the ring.

They both lost their steady footing about two minutes in. Mako was trying to match Chuck step-for-step, and he was trying to match her strike-for-strike, but their rhythm seemed knocked on its side, slightly off-kilter, and it was unsettling.

None of their hits so far had been clean - always coupled with one of them tripping, stumbling or falling off balance. Mako could sense the heavy glances of the other students, and Zahra's patience was quickly waning, her coaching becoming inundated with more and more cursing.

"For fuck's sake, Hansen, concentrate!"

Mako narrowly ducked Chuck's hit. Her foot slipped across the mat, ankle twisted into an abnormal position. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. Regaining her balance for a brief moment, she lunged and struck at Chuck's side. Taking her by surprise, he grazed her pole with his own at the last second, knocking her fully off-balance.

"Breathe, Mako, damn it!"

Chuck had taken off his shirt twenty minutes in, and Mako had teased him incessantly about it at first, pairing her verbal jabs with stabs of her pole, but now here she was, sweat slick on her hands, slacks rolled all the way up to her knees, and her muscles were screaming at her to _stop_.

Zahra finally yelled at them to take a break and Mako stumbled out into the hallway, collapsing against the cool concrete of the wall. Towel draped over her neck, she gulped down sweet, soothing water.

Moments later, Chuck crashed down beside her.

"So," he said, between heaving breaths. "a tie?"

Mako tried to answer, but her lungs were ripping themselves apart. Her arms were on fire. A pounding migraine was beginning to build. "I'm...blaming...you."

Chuck laughed. "Me? That's rich."

Mako poked him in his side. "You and your…" She waved a hand. "You and your stupid face."

"What, am I ruining your concentration?" He looked too pleased with himself.

"Absolutely." She took another gulp of water. "Gonna do the last round blindfolded so I don't have to look at all that"

"Ouch."

"You know I'm right." 

Chuck was holding her eye contact just a bit too long to be friendly, a ghost of a smile still on his lips. Their knees were just barely touching. His chest was still heaving. Mako tried not to look.

She had two choices:

  1. Continue sitting in this deserted hallway that had cool air and water, but run the risk of running into potentially dangerous territory with this boy, or
  2. Trek back into the Kwoon to face certain, thankless, searing, torturous hell that would leave her unable to lift her arms over her head for at least a week.



She jumped up, ignoring the fire that shot up the back of her calves. "Rematch. Let's go."

Chuck was incredulous. "Go? In? We're going back in?"

She offered him a hand, immediately regretting the action when he took it and pulled himself up, stabilizing himself against her arm.

Mako quickly took her hand back. "If you can handle it."

Chuck winked on instinct.

Twenty excruciating minutes later, they threw down their poles for good. Zahra looked about as exhausted as they did. Mako tried to ignore the pitying glances from the rest of the students.

Julieta slung an arm around her shoulder as they left the Kwoon, bags in hand. "How are you _alive,_ man, I mean, you and Hansen were two feral cats out there."

Mako let out a long sigh. "Tell me about it. I'm gonna be bedridden for the next week. At least."

"You gonna tell Aisha about her replacement?"

Mako punched her in the arm. "Don't even _joke_ about that."

Julieta smiled. "I'm just saying, I know she'd have loved to see you give Hansen what he had coming for him."

"And I'd love to be able to feel my triceps right now."

Julieta nudged Mako, voice suddenly conspiratorial. "He's kinda hot, though, you've gotta admit."

"Hansen?" Mako blinked. "Chuck Hanson? Julieta-"

Julieta raised her hands in defense. "Look, you've known him since you were little. Don't tell me you haven't noticed how he's-" She lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper. "- _changed_."

Mako groaned. "You're ridiculous."

"Like, hot in a ruin-your-life kind of way." Julieta looked off into the distance, almost wistful. "Like, if I wasn't already hooking up with Olive, I'd climb him like a damn-"

"Please-" Mako put her head in her hands. "For the sake of my sanity, please stop."

"I know you don't do dating, so," Julieta put her arm back over Mako's shoulder. "Just putting it on the table."

Mako leaned into her. "Don't ever become a matchmaker, Julieta."

"I'll have you know I'd be the best damn matchmaker the Pacific coast's ever seen. By the way, do you know when Aisha's on leave? She said she couldn't tell me because of security and shit."

"Yeah, she told me the same thing. So did the Marshal."

"Damn. I was hoping to see her before we shipped out."

Mako kept her eyes fixed on the ground. "You and Enlai know where you're being sent, yet?"

"Nope." Julieta shook her head. "They tightened up security after Taipei."

"Figures."

They rounded a corner and Mako suddenly stopped, rifling through her bag. "Hang on-"

"You forget something?"

"Yeah." Mako silently cursed. "My jacket's back in the Kwoon."

"I can wait," Julieta offered.

"Nah, go on and save me a spot." Mako waved her away. "Get me one of those rice pudding things."

She walked back down the hallway. As she was about to enter the Kwoon, she heard the low voices of Chuck and Zahra, and stopped dead in the doorway.

"...different partners, or, you could still reconsider the class-"

"-but...you don't think it could be some weird form of-"

"Of drift compatibility?" Mako heard Zahra laugh. "Sorry, no. That's...no."

A pause.

"So...what do you think?" Chuck's voice was a shade softer.

"I think it's a fast track for both of you to land in the infirmary." Zahra's voice was light. "Anyways. Go. Eat."

Mako heard steps approaching the door and quickly jumped back, mind spinning.

Zahra walked out first. "Mako!" She seemed a bit startled. "I'm putting together a new partner system for next week, don't worry."

"That's great, I'm-" Mako remembered to smile. "Thanks."

Zahra waved goodbye as she headed off to dinner.

Mako turned to go into the Kwoon and retrieve her jacket, but just as she stepped into the doorway, Chuck collided with her, and she lost her balance once again.

"Oh, damn, sorry about that." He steadied her with a hand on her arm.

He had put on a thin white shirt, loose slacks slung dangerously low on his waist.

Mako managed to blink and realize that he was holding her jacket.

Chuck had an almost-genuine smile. "I was gonna give this to you at dinner, but since you're here -"

Mako was dumbstruck.

After a pause, she finally managed to speak. "You know I don't like you, right?"

"Yeah." He tossed the jacket to her. "I know."

She held the fabric in her hands. It was still slightly warm. "Thanks."

"No worries. Here to claim your crown?"

Mako crossed her arms. "Oh, so you're admitting my victory?"

"Oh, so you admit you think you won?"

"You can think whatever you want, Chuck." She looked up at him, smiling sweetly. 

Chuck grinned. "Now what the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?"

_Ruin-your-life kind of hot._

Mako could kind of see it, now. Hair all mussed up from their sparring, messy curls brushing his forehead and framing his eyelashes. She could see his arms slightly straining against the weight of his bag. The hem of his thin shirt was riding up just the tiniest bit above his waist.

The deserted hallway made the atmosphere seem a bit ethereal.

Reality was a little bit fuzzy around the edges.

What did she have to lose?

Mako let her guard slip and fall and shatter on the ground.

She took a tentative step towards Chuck, letting her jacket and bag tumble to the floor. She heard his breath hitch in his throat.

Standing up on her toes, she lightly tugged him down by the collar of his shirt, knuckles lightly brushing against his neck. 

Taking a shaking breath, she pressed her lips against his.

He melted into her so fast that it was _terrifying._

She had an arm lazily rested on his shoulder. Immediately, he was moving one warm hand onto her lower back and the other one up to lightly graze her jaw.

The kiss was sweet and it was bright and Mako was on fire.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling slightly, and immediately, his lips had moved to her collarbone and her knees buckled. 

She had to stifle a smile because he was so _needy_ , clutching her close, moaning softly in her ear, and if sparring with Chuck Hansen had been hell, then this was heaven.

The buzzing fluorescent lights hummed a heavenly chorus.

But the kiss had to end, and Mako finally pulled away, not wanting to let go of the soft cotton of his shirt. Eyes open, she was jolted back into the cold exposure of reality. The open hallway, their bags discarded on the tile floor, the distant sound of the cafeteria -

The thundering truth of what she'd just done was rolling over her. She thought she might be sick.

For his part. Chuck was still looking at her, eyes hooded, not yet back down to Earth.

"You..."

Mako had never seen him at a loss for words before.

"There." She straightened her shirt. "I win."

That snapped him out of his daze. "Absolutely not."

"Oh come on," Mako raised her eyebrows. "I never knew that you were such a _submissive_ type."

"Fuck _off_." Chuck leaned in closer with a conspiratorial grin. "I'm always down for a rematch."

Mako hid behind a smile. "You know this can't happen again."

"Sure." Chuck didn't let his expression waver. "The sparring or the kissing?"

"Both." Mako crouched down to pick up her bag and jacket. "Say hi to your dad for me."

Chuck put his head in his hands. "Please don't bring my dad into this."

Mako stepped backwards, forcing herself to put space between her and Chuck. She tried to memorize this image of him, smudged and vulnerable - storing it away somewhere deep and secret.

"Bye, Chuck." Mako turned around. She needed a clean break. "You should drop this class."

"What, no room for me in your busy schedule?" He almost sounded serious.

Mako hesitated.

"Yeah." She bit her lip. "Something like that."

**Author's Note:**

> Raleigh/Mako are the endgame material that none of us deserve, but!! it really is so much ~fun~ to explore the idiot teenage psyche and bounce the characters of Mako and Chuck off of each other.
> 
> As always, I hoard comments like a damn dragon - please leave your thoughts below!


End file.
